The Hunger Games: A Shamelessly Stolen Plot
by LucyTheBucktoothTiger
Summary: As the title suggests, this story is based on The Hunger Games only twisted to become an ancient wizarding tradition. This is an AU in which Voldemort has won and Hermione finds herself Draco's pawn in the games.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters and the story is partly stolen from Suzanne Collins.

She lay in the ruins of what had once been Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. The final battle had been the castles final day. The weather was warm and fair. The sun penetrated through the tattered remains of her school robe. She knew that she should move if she wanted to survive. The battle was lost. Voldemort's army was camped out a mere half mile away from her and she could hear the deep boom of victory drums accompanied by the drunken songs of soldiers. Still, she lay there, half empty, not caring- just feeling the jagged edges of the rubble dig into her back. There was something comforting in the thin lines of blood made by shallow cuts. The droplets tickled her skin and reminded her that she was still alive. Emotionally she didn't feel it. All she felt was the dull and hollow thumping of her heart and the rocks beneath her. Hogwarts, the once majestic castle, had easily become so much dust and dirt. She knew that all things break and fade eventually; she had just hoped she wouldn't be the one to live through a change in regime.

She didn't know what happened to Harry or Ron. Neville and a few other dissenters had their skulls strung up like a garland before the castle finally turned to dust. They had been silent observers of the battle, a warning to all who continued the fight. She looked back to see if she could make out any friendly body parts in the mess. She caught a few smudges of blood but wasn't sure if the memory of blood was just permanently etched in her vision or if it was really there. She closed her eyes and a giggle escaped between her teeth. So this was it. This was the glorious end and liberty bought? In death, she supposed her friends would be free. She fell to her side and laughed harder, releasing all the unwanted tension from her muscles. She couldn't stop and that's how the enemy found her, rolling around in the dirt and blood. Laughing. Mud. Blood. Mudblood. She laughed harder as she felt herself being yanked roughly up by her underarms. She limply let the enemy take her. There was nothing left to fight for. The last thing she saw was a pair of disgusted grey eyes glaring down at her. "Good game," she whispered with a smile. Let them have their prize, she thought as she passed into the happier realm of dreams.

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She woke up to the smell of freshly mown grass, old books, and Ron's cologne. She smiled into her pillow and reached out for the warm spot she assumed would be waiting for her, recently vacated by Ron who practiced quidditch in the mornings. Finding the other side of the bed cold she cracked open her eyes and saw green. There was green everywhere. The duvet was a rather expensive looking bit of green fabric; the walls were white with moving green ivy making its way to the floorboards. Her sheets were sea foam that contrasted prettily with the much darker duvet. Her eyes trailed down the floorboards and were led to a small chest of drawers and a walk in closet which seemed to house a full wardrobe of expensive looking wizarding robes. All of them looked appropriate for St. Patty's day.

Hermione blinked the sleep out of her eyes. "Well, isn't this a nice and cozy Slytherin bed and breakfast," she mumbled to herself. She hadn't thought Slytherins did comfort. She always imagined chains and whips as the primary features of their décor. She supposed that was rather silly of her to think.

And then it hit her. Everything that had happened at the final battle. The fact that Ron wasn't at quidditch practice and would possibly never play quidditch again. The fact that Harry was missing and Hogwarts destroyed. And Neville! Sweet Merlin she was going to be ill if she didn't find a way to burn that image from her skull. She closed her eyes. They started to water but she held back the impulse to cry. Tears were for another time. "For a time when there is time. Not now." She thought vaguely.

She would mourn her friends another day when there was time to do it appropriately. Now she had to figure out where she was and why. Why would she be set up in comfort? Surely this wasn't the Slytherin version of prison. Unless they were as perverse as to think the good the bad and vice versa. That was stupid. She shook her head, noticing the smell of shampoo and lack of dirt and blood. No scourgify would have gotten her this fresh.

She dragged herself out of bed, surprised at the lack of pain in her limbs. By all rights she should be sore and unkempt. She shivered in foreboding. This could not be good. Why would they treat her so well?

'Ah, I see the Gryffindor princess has decided to grace me with her presence." A cold voice said behind her.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she asked as she turned around to face him.

"Just admiring my new show piece. We have resurrected an old game. I doubt you have heard of it, old wizarding tradition that it is. We call it the Hunger Games." He said looking down at his perfectly manicured nails. "I was fortunate enough to acquire you as my piece to play. It would have been awful if I hadn't been able to participate in this exciting experience. I don't know why they ever stopped the games in the first place.

"Maybe because children die in gruesome ways and it's a cruel abuse of power." She said drily.

Ignoring her, Draco continued. "Besides, with the Dark Lord in charge this will look great on my resume. Assuming I actually have to do one of those. I'll probably be a shoe in for the inner circle."

Hermione rolled her eyes but continued the conversation anyway. "Don't worry. If anyone gets on auto pass to evil glory and conniving wickedness I'm sure it's you."

Ignoring her comment again Draco continued with his spiel. "So you've heard of the games and I don't have to go through a lengthy explanation for you."

He looked her up and down lasciviously. "You might want to get dressed before we go down. The boys can get mighty lonesome out on the field, and just because they're out to kill you it doesn't mean they don't want to play first." His eyes flashed and his lips quirked slightly to the right. "Of course, some might like it better after the fact. Avery's like that. The Dark Lord is selling him the bodies for a pretty sum."

Draco, now displaying a full-on grin, stepped forward and let his hand trail down her side. "Come to think of it, I have never tried it with a dead girl. Maybe you can be my first." He waggled his eyebrows. "What do you say, Miss Granger? Is finding your latest pureblood conquest worth dying for? Gryffs are brave, right?"

Hermione could only stare at him wide eyed. For a moment she could feel her mouth droop into an unattractive gape as she tried to digest his words. And then she shoved him. He flew hard and clear across the floor, as she scrambled to make her exit. She was quick to turn the doorknob but he was quicker to grab her wrist and twist. He had her stomach on the floor and his knee digging into her back with a quickness she could hardly fathom.

A gut wrenching pain was building in her stomach. It was a combination of nausea and fear that threatened to rise up and froth from between her tightly clamped teeth. Instead she swallowed it down, and forced her body to relax into his man-handling. She began frantically searching her brain for a possible escape plan. She thought briefly and randomly of the dragon at Gringotts. While highly daring and showy might be fun, survival was probably a better plan. Plus, she seemed to lack a dragon. Unless she counted Draco, and she couldn't very well ride off into the sunset on his back. Logic had apparently abandoned her and she figured she would have to wait for opportunity to come knocking. Physically he was stronger, she lacked a wand, and right now his attention and his body were just a bit too much on her for escape to be likely.

"In case you haven't noticed, Malfoy, I'm not fighting you. You can relax. I realize escape is not going to happen at the moment. So if you would be so kind as to let me up I'll play the good kitty and you can be on your way." She said steadily though her heart was pounding and she could feel sweat trickling down her neck and heat shooting through her back and across her cheeks. She didn't believe that Malfoy was serious about what he had said. He just wanted to scare her. If she was wrong, she'd be dead anyway. His words were disgusting and chilling, but hardly the stuff of nightmares. Besides he needed her to play puppet to his master as long as she could fight in the games.

He pushed more of his weight onto his knee so it stabbed the center of her back painfully as he got up. "I suppose I should say something about lessons and whatnot but I presume you have every possible lecture on defying authority memorized. Just think of me as king, behave accordingly and I will keep you alive until you are publicly butchered or win me lots of galleons." He said as he stood and dusted off his robes with his fingertips. Curling his lips he continued to taunt her like the half childhood enemy/ half psychopath that he had apparently become.

"And for god's sake Granger, use the sleak-eazy. I left it on your dresser for a reason. You will meet the other participants today. Maybe even find a few familiar faces."

She felt the urgent need to cover her body from his eyes even though she was clothed and had to quell the urge to just jump back into bed and cover her head. Instead she simply asked "Why do I smell Ron?"

"The dead Weasel? That's what you smell." He barked out some harsh laughter and twisted his face into a look of disgust.

So Ron was dead. She would never see his smiling face again. She would never feel his soft touches or hear his voice whisper in her ear. She felt her chest sink in and her body suddenly felt heavy. Sleep. That's what this called for. Going to bed and never waking up. Good plans be damned. She didn't care. With that she sunk down into a sitting position with her back against the bed.

"It's an amortentia room." Draco said softly. "Bits of the potion are placed about so that guests feel more comfortable and homey. It's a decorating tradition in the Malfoy family."

"Oh…Malfoy?" she started hesitantly and without glancing back at him.

"Yeah?' he asked without insult but sounding bored.

"Why am I clean?"

"House elves." He replied in the same bored tone. She heard him walking away but did not bother to get up or say anything else. Their points had been made. He came, saw and gloated over his victory and she…well, she hadn't a reason for being here except force so she supposed she didn't really have a point to make besides "this is shite" and that would get redundant very quickly.

The knob twisted and his feet rustled the carpet as he turned back to look at her slumped beside the bed. "There's no reason to get judgmental, Granger. Everyone goes monster sometime. With any luck you can avoid breaking your poor Gryffindor spirit and shuffle off after a few minutes of the tournament." With that he turned on his heel, walked out the door and slammed it behind him.

Not bothering to stand, but scooting herself to the corner of the room, Hermione let sleep envelop her as she set her nose close to the amortentia and the smell of her childhood friend and teen love, Ronald Weasley. "How bright the stars shine in this new world," she mumbled. And in a strange moment consisting of sheer exhaustion and desperation she leaned in and kissed the wall that smelled so much like her boyfriend-pretending that wherever he was the kiss would reach him. The second her lips touched the wall she realized her error but there was no mistaking the sugar-sweet taste of amortentia.


	2. Chapter 2

Malfoy had a collar around her neck which was charmed to burst into flames if she disobeyed him. He was leading her down a winding hallway filled with doors of all shapes and sizes. She had been glancing in the open doors as they passed by but Malfoy had forbidden it as an annoying action. She could see the end of the hallway and could hear laughter emanating from the open space. She cringed, knowing that she was about to meet her fellow captives and their owners. Part of her hoped to recognize a friendly face and another part hated the first part for wishing such a fate on one of her acquaintances.

The opening ahead was a great archway of pale gold with the same moving ivy found in the room she had been given. Through the arch she could glimpse an inviting but empty armchair up against the back wall which was painted magically and looked like a swirling vortex of gold flakes over sea foam. She had to admire the craftsmanship and magic put into it. The raucous laughter emanating out of the room sounded mostly of the youthful male variety. There was, however the intermittent and eerily tinkling sound of feminine laughter. It was a sound she knew very well but was shocked to hear given the circumstances. Luna.

Hermione was confused. Luna was a pureblood and survivor of the light. What would she be doing in this place? It made sense for them to capture her but not to use her as muggle sport. It would be more typical of what she knew for them to take her, privately torture her and kill her as a traitor. It could be possible, she mused, that Luna had traded her beliefs for her life and was now a part of the enemies' ranks. In this dismal world that may have been her only escape from death. Hermione felt a brief flare of anger fire up in her. How dare Luna sound happy when the others were either dead or missing. Her Ron, who had been a good friend to Luna was barely cold in the ground and here she was, apparently feeling like now was the time for a good joke. Having reached the archway, Hermione could now easily look in and spot the blonde, still smiling at a boy she did not know, looking quite pleased even as a heavy collar was placed around her neck. Though she knew Luna was in the same circumstances as herself, Hermione could not help but feel some envy and anger that the war had not broken Luna like it had broken her. It seemed as if nothing could penetrate the outer layers of that strange girls mind. Hermione wondered what Luna was thinking. Was she stupid or crazy, perhaps a mixture of both? Was she playing the enemy that they may think her reformed and one of them? Why was she, a pureblood, in the mudblood games? It made no sense.

Luna looked up and smiled dreamily as she lifted a bejeweled arm and waved at Hermione. She was looking a bit worse for wear, with a blackened eye and numerous bruises and scratches on her exposed skin. Her dress was low-cut, exposing her small and almost childishly missing breasts. It was short, slightly above the knee and had thinly strapped sleeves. As Luna stood to walk towards her it shimmered and moved delicately. For all appearances it seemed as if they had poured a soft purple and green water over her battered form. Between that and the jewels it made for an unnerving picture. She looked like a mutilated child dressed in expensive finery, the ghostly skeleton of a queen's daughter. Her walk was as energetic and joyful as ever and she seemed for all the world to be unaware of her changed circumstance. When she reached Hermione she grasped the other girls hands in hers, lightly melding their palms together.

"Hermione, it's so good to see you. I had thought for sure the grimlyhoops had taken you to meet their king. They took many of the others."

Hermione smiled tightly and shook off the urge to squeeze the bridge of her nose. She and Luna had never exactly seen eye to eye and she mostly put up with her because Ron had liked her. She felt a lump rising in her throat at the thought and before her eyes could further water she pulled Luna to her in a warm embrace, burying her face in the other girl's hair to shield herself from any prying eyes. After all, this was a girl who had fought side by side with her and who her dearest friends had thought of fondly.

Letting go of her, Luna stepped back with a knowing look which quickly morphed into a look of bemusement as she said, "I see Draco has cleaned and healed you. That's good. I thought he might."

Thinking it odd that Luna had considered this given that she didn't even know Hermione was here, Hermione replied simply, "But you! You still look like you have been fighting battles. Didn't they give you anything for the pain?"

Luna glanced sadly at the boy she had been talking to earlier. "I don't think it occurred to him. Maybe after seeing you, he will think of it."

Hermione gazed sadly at the girl in front of her. No matter what their problems in the past, Hermione did not enjoy seeing misery and this girl was obviously bearing it bravely. "I'm so sorry," she said. Continuing on, she added," But what are you even doing here? I have read about the Hunger Games, and they are supposed to be strictly a muggle baiting program."

Luna nodded, "They were going to take Lisa Turpin but I made an unbreakable vow to take her place. They could have killed me but there are things that even the deatheaters must respect."

Hermione had the immediate impulse to be completely disgusted by Lisa's cowardice, but Luna, seeing her face quickly added, "Don't hate Lisa. I manipulated her into agreeing. I told her that I had a plan to take down Voldemort but that I needed to be in the games to do so."

"Do you? Have a plan, I mean?" Hermione asked eagerly.

Luna looked at her strangely for a moment, "No."

Hermione was not sure how to respond so she did not say anything. She had a strange sensation on her tongue and welcoming the distraction, grabbed at her mouth lightly. Looking down, she saw in between her fingers a stray piece of blonde hair which must have stuck to her when she hugged the other girl.

Tapping his foot impatiently behind them was Malfoy who had begun pulling at her collar. "As much as your conversation amuses me, Granger, I would really like to proceed fully into the room now. In case you haven't noticed there is a party going on and I am not at the center of it."

Rolling her eyes and ignoring the growing sensation of fire making its way across her tongue where the hair had been, Hermione moved out of Malfoy's way and said sarcastically, "anything else your supreme annoyingness?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Do not speak unless I tell you to. Also, remove that sour look from your face. It makes me ill to look at. You may only smile when I am aware of you. Oh, and call me master from now on."

"Yes, oh master of douche-baggery." She replied.

"Good. You are getting better. After some training I suspect you will understand the meaning of slave. Leave off the end part next time. It is just master. You may continue speaking with the crazy flea." With that, Malfoy flounced off before she had time to respond.

Hermione looked around and tried to drink up the details of her surroundings. She saw a few familiar faces. Some were surprising and others it would have been more surprising not to see in a place like this. There was Blaise Zabini, looking darkly handsome and bored as ever, miles Bletchley, who looked spotty as ever and Anthony Goldstein of Ravenclaw, who she had always respected and liked. It hurt a little to see Anthony here and to know that he had chosen not only to follow Voldemort, which at this point could not be helped by the survivors, but that he had chosen to take an active part in these games. She realized then that she could expect to find many previously neutral people serving Voldemort and that she may even find some traitors to the light in this den of snakes.

The atmosphere was altogether cheery, and the young men looked very much to have been putting their parent's money to the good use of buying liquors and mind-altering potions. The only sober ones in the room were her, Luna, and Malfoy. The last of whom was busy making up for this fact by shooting a third shot of firewhiskey down his throat. There were soft leather armchairs and couches of pale cream scattered about the room along with some tables set up for cards. That's where she had spotted Anthony, playing a game of wizarding poker with a curly-haired boy she had not met before. She had almost missed seeing Theodore Knott, a tall but thin and weedy looking Slytherin from her year. She was surprised to find him frowning absently at herself and Luna, though she supposed he might just disapprove of having a muggleborn around. Of course, Knott always looked somewhat serious and absent-minded in school. He never had been much of a socializer. Perhaps he just didn't like the frivolity of parties and thought his time better spent elsewhere. That she could relate to. For the most part, however, she had always found him to be a bit of a mystery box. Though he was on good terms with his housemates, he never seemed to participate in their antics and teasing of the other houses. He always appeared to look through people, as if he were seeing something far off in the distance that he couldn't quite make out. Hermione shrugged her shoulders. Maybe he was just a depressive.

Hermione looked up and found that she had inadvertently moved very close to the other girl's body. Their noses were practically touching and Luna was looking at her oddly. She started to apologize and tried to move away, but instead found herself further closing the gap between them. She couldn't stop looking in Luna's eyes. They were so beautiful and ethereal and seemed to see into worlds unimagined by herself. She wanted Luna to take her to those worlds, to teach her right from wrong and show her all of the amazing creatures she talked about. She tore her eyes away and looked at Luna's long blonde hair which seemed to be made of little sunbeams, both dazzling and appropriately forming a halo around her goddesses face. Hermione longed to reach out and touch the shorter girl's slight yet graceful form. She longed to feel every part of Luna's body against her own.

"Oh. Shite." Hermione whispered as she realized what was happening. The amortentia must have been activated by Luna's hair. She had read about the phenomenon back in her fifth year when they were studying the potion. If an inactive potion is ingested, then the drinker would fall for anyone who had the misfortune to get near their mouth. Even the slightest bit of DNA could activate the potion.

Luna was still looking at her strangely and Hermione glanced around for possible help. Her scan of the room revealed that Knott had also noticed her strange behavior and was gazing at her intensely. She felt a blush slowly creeping up her neck and splashing across her cheeks. She wasn't sure that she would be able to control herself around Luna and one look back at the girl told her that she definitely would not be able to contain herself. She needed to escape, but did she really want to? She tried stepping backwards but found her body betrayed her by bridging the small gap between them instead. Luna smelled so good, just like Ron had smelled and she was overpowered by the intoxicating effect of it. Freshly cut grass, old books, Ron's sweat mixed with his cologne. She longed to lick her clean of it. She was sure she would burst if she didn't do something soon. She could feel moisture pooling between her thighs, threatening to bring her to the most embarrassing public display she had ever participated in. She couldn't hold onto her thoughts and instead shifted them all to focus on the girl in front of her.

"Oh, Luna!" She thought. "Oh, my moon, Oh my stars, Oh my twinkling night sky!" If only she knew. Maybe she was a lesbian too and wanted her just as much. She longed to be touched by those soft and small hands. She could imagine them caressing her body and moving lower and lower until finally they reached their destination in a burst of flame and loving violence. Hermione shuddered and took another step forward, unable to stop. Reaching up, she gently touched the side of Luna's face, gazing at her hand in awe for only a second before she whispered, "I love you," and pulled Luna's face forcefully to meet her own. Their tongues locked for only a second before she felt rough hands pulling her back and holding her arms down. People were booing whoever had committed the crime of ending such a spectacle and Hermione found herself agreeing with these good people who understood her love and wished for her to continue expressing it.

"What are you doing Theo? You might find mudblood sex appalling, and honorably so, but the rest of us wouldn't mind the entertainment." She heard Blaise say laughingly through her Luna shaped haze. She started clawing at Knott's arms. How dare he try to separate her from her love! He must be jealous and want her goddess for himself. Well, she thought, that was not going to happen! She lifted her foot and stomped down on Knott's as hard as she could. When he only tightened his arms around her painfully, she began wriggling and clawing with all her might. Luna looked so confused without her! Luna needed her so she could be comforted. That thought further inspired the violence boiling in Hermione's bosom and she threw every reserve of strength she had into escaping Knott's absurd grip. He did not relent.

"A love potion, Draco? That's a weird move even for you." Knott stated, clearly expecting some sort of explanation from his comrade.

"I didn't give that crazy bint anything," Malfoy began indignantly. "She must have licked the wall or something. "You, mudblood," he continued, now addressing the ever more angry Hermione. "Did you lick my wall?" He said this quite imperiously as if she was a naughty child and this was just an incident with the cookie jar.

Hermione thought he must have lost his mind. How could he speak of licking walls when she clearly just wanted to be close to her Luna and lick her. "Give me my Luna." She demanded angrily, emphatically repeating the statement until she was shouting it at Malfoy.

There was laughter billowing around the room and Hermione could not believe the cruelty. She had thought they were on her side but they too were the destroyers of love, just like Knott, who was now bleeding from her various scratches and bites. Well, she thought, he shouldn't have interrupted. All of them would have to bleed if they continued mocking the purity of her love.

Malfoy ran a hand through his blonde hair and sighed. "Mippy!" he called. And instantly a little green house elf with bulging eyes, wearing nothing but a tea cozy snapped into existence. "Take this filthy mudblood and give her the antidote to amortentia. I don't want her causing any more scenes. When you are done, clean any wounds she has inflicted on herself and dress them. Afterwards return her to me for punishment. Go!"

And with that the little elf grabbed Hermione and disapparated.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Hunger Games

Hermione was quick to recover from the side along apparition and immediately began scrambling to get back to her Luna. As quick as she was to make a break for it, the house elf was quicker and had the girl by her hair in a matter of moments, slamming her into the wall and further addling her potion damaged brain.

"Mippy is sorry, but Mippy must obey master and so must Missy Granger!"

The poor elf looked desperate and Hermione could not hold onto the anger which had first blossomed in her upon being unceremoniously thrown into the kitchen wall. The elf, after all, had little choice in the matter, having been brainwashed and spelled into a desperate desire to serve and fulfill the whims of wizard-folk in general and the Malfoy's in particular. Of course Mippy wouldn't understand her plight, but maybe she could make her see how Malfoy was thwarting the greatest love story of all time?

"You don't understand, Mippy. Malfoy is a complete wanker and probably never had sex with a willing witch in his life! He's just jealous."

OK. So maybe that wasn't the best argument she'd ever come up with. In fact that might just be the worst. It was that damn pureblooded, low-minded, infantile ferret's fault, though. How was she supposed to think without the soft touch of her lover's slender hand?

"Mippy understands that Missy Granger has been poisoned by the love wall. It has been happening to elves before. Now, hold still so that Mippy can rescue Missy from nasty potions."

"I am not drugg…"

At this Mippy clamped a small, roughened hand across Hermione's mouth. "Missy mustn't say such things. Missy is just poisoned. Mippy is sorry for this."

The elf removed her hand but before Hermione could say anything else, raised her arms and performed a bit of wandless magic which left her crumpled and prostrate before the green creature, completely unable to move or even look up.

With that the elf began gliding around the kitchen, grabbing bottles and setting a fire in the hearth. She was surprisingly graceful and when she came into Hermione's glaring view, the girl was taken with the flowing movements. When the elves weren't cowering, they were amazing to watch in action. Without a stumble or a reason to pause for self-flagellation, the wrinkled creature could have passed for a dancer. Mippy looked like a deformed midget in a loin cloth, but a nimble one.

Hermione busied herself by imaging schemes that would free her from her plight and return her to her love. It was frustrating and more than a little scary to be bound and helpless, not to mention irritatingly uncomfortable to not move her limbs. She'd be sore when this was over, but she figured she could always make herself better with the soft caresses of her lady love. What a silly waste of time this potions nonsense was! Never matter, she thought, I'll take the antidote, after which everyone will see that this was true love and not some paltry potion. How could they think a bottle of goo could create this feeling? Obviously, her love was a pure and undying ember of sensuality and deeply protective tendencies!

It wasn't long before the antidote was mixed together and bubbling merrily in its cauldron. Hermione was growing more impatient but could only express her rage through what she hoped were painfully harsh glares whenever the elf stepped in front of her. If only glares were words, or better yet actions. She'd be out of here and fuc…erm, making love in one of the spare bedrooms in no time. She bet Luna was just aching for it wherever she was.

The elf, for her part, was completely ignoring Hermione's unspoken death threats, continuing on, blissfully unaware of the wrathful nature of her captive. Well! Hermione would show her. When she was done there would be no mippy left, just juicy elf steaks to be shared over a candlelit dinner and giggled about during the act.

Of course, Hermione would never actually do that, but it pleased her to no end to imagine that she would and to picture the steaks stamped with a symbol of freedom and escape. What exactly that symbol would be she hadn't decided. She would use runes, perhaps, or some magical Chinese character that glowed iridescent in the moonlight and announced to everyone that she and Luna had overcome this terrible diversity and were all the closer for it.

Mippy carefully ladled out a small vial full of the rancid potion and glided across the room to where Hermione remained slumped over and fretting.

"Missy may open her mouth now. Mippy retains control of Missy's limbs and she must not try to escape but she may open her mouth for her potion. Then Mippy will release her and bring her to Master Draco."

Hermione dutifully opened her mouth with a mental eye role and the hot potion was tipped into her mouth. The smell was of rancid dragon meat and hippogriff dung. She hoped that wasn't what was currently dancing across her tongue and numbing it. It was thick and brown and sludgy in its texture and Hermione desperately wished she had the ability to gag. Unfortunately for her, that was not an option as her throat was still frozen by Mippy's magic and she had to patiently wait for the potion to dribble down the back of her throat.

Slowly, Hermione's eyes were losing their glazed appearance and as she regained her mental faculties, her physical abilities also returned to her. Her face took on a sour expression and her cheeks made an excellent impression of a red delicious apple. Her hand moved to her mouth which she covered in horror.

"Oh Merlin…oh Merlin…OH JESUS AND MERLIN WRAPPED IN A FUZZY BLANKET AND MADE INDISTINGUISHABLE! What a stupid night. What a stupid situation, full of stupid people and topped with stupid decisions and a dollop of stupid potion."

"Mippy understands that Missy Granger is being upset by this. Forgive Mippy for saying so, but you are being just like the poisoned elves when their minds returns to them. Mippy is not liking cleaning the walls of the manor."

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Hermione was dutifully returned to the party and was now bravely glaring at Malfoy's drunken state and laughing face. He was playing cards with Theo, now, and both appeared sloshed beyond reason. He had not deigned to look at her since Mippy announced her presence a full five minutes ago.

Theo looked up and gave her a little half-smile and wave.

"Why don't you come and join us, Granger. I'm sure you could show the Malfoy heir a thing or two about making bets and losing his inheritance. He's already 100 galleons in the hole and digging it deeper by the second."

Malfoy also looked up and sent a quick glare to both friend and foe, moving his head back and forth to best hit them both with his malice.

"Leave the bint. She's not currently licking walls and snogging lezzers, so I'd say she's doing well enough for herself in the corner. There, she can sit quietly and maybe even learn how normal people interact. She'll make a nuisance of herself at the table. Plus, I can only take so many showers a day and if she gets too close, I may never be rid of her undoubtedly many muggle diseases."

Theo simply raised a well arched brow and encouraged her to get up and play a game with them. While she did get up, mostly to annoy Malfoy, she was in no mood to do it pleasantly. She let her chair loudly scrape across the floor, doing an accurate exercise in mimicking nails on a chalkboard and scuffing Malfoy's impossibly expensive floor in the process. Then she slowly ambled her way over to where they were sitting and made a point to pull up closely to Malfoy and rub her "muggle germs" on his arm which had the effect of making him shudder in disgust and bring his fingers painstakingly to the bridge of his nose.

"You see what you've done Theo? I hope you know that in the absence of Granger having…well, anything…you will be paying for the floor fix and you will have to listen to me whine for an extra few hours tomorrow. Also, any Mungoe's bills that come from her touches will come out of your pocket."

"Sure, Draco. If you come up with a debilitating illness in direct relation to Granger, other than mental instability, I will pay for everything. Now, if you don't mind," Theo responded, gesturing to the table in front of them. "I would like to win a few more of your galleons before calling it a night."

Theo set the cards in deck form and she watched as they began shuffling themselves. Hermione would never get over how amazing the Wizarding world was, but at the same time there was something to be said for the muggle, hands on, approach. She liked to feel the cards beneath her fingers, do tricks with her own hands, and in general amaze others with her dexterity. Still, in this company it was probably best that cheating be kept to a minimum through magical protections. It was one of the reasons wizards used spelled cards. No one could pull a fast one, at least at this point in the game. The cards would attack anyone who interrupted randomness.

The night continued on pleasantly enough, with Theo being distant but nice and Hermione constantly edging up to Malfoy who was forced to constantly scoot away and not pay attention to the number of galleons being pocketed by the other two. It was actually kind of fun, Hermione thought, before she remembered where she was and why she was there; before she remembered Ron and Harry and Neville along with countless others.

Suddenly, she stood up with a crash of her chair and a look of horror upon her face. What was she doing? Here she was sitting with the very people who not two days ago had decimated the ranks of the order, murdered her friends and who had taken her hostage to play in a sick blood sport for their amusement. And she was playing cards with them? Teasing them? Acting, just like Luna, who she had mentally berated before her little potions accident. This wasn't right. None of this was right. It was sick and weird and she hated Draco Malfoy and Theodore Knott. She was, for all intents and purposes keeping the Wizarding version of Nazi's company and she had forgotten! She had forgotten what they had done and who they were. She had mistakenly taken to viewing them as the people she went to school with. Sure, they were never friends, but back then they weren't the bitter enemies they were today. They had been children. But these were men and evil ones at that, who believed in killing her and her kind.

Theo was looking at her quizzically and Malfoy had followed suit in jumping up, looking like he expected her to do something insane and violent at any moment. And she wanted to. She wanted to rip the flesh of his stupid face clear off his skull and watch him scream in agony. She wanted to carve remember Neville into his bloodied forehead and then she wanted to weep for Ron and pray that Harry had somehow made it. She hadn't seen his carcass. Maybe…. No, she wouldn't think of hope. This was not a world of hope. This world was shite and….she was not going to start hyperventilating.

She sat back down at the table and said, "A bug."

"Jesus Granger, you are going to have to lighten up. If a bug scares you I don't know how you'll perform in the games and win for me."

Her eyes flashed angrily at him and she had to hold back from scratching out his eyes. She knew that now was not the time. She needed to act docile…ish, if there was any hope of loosening the restraints preventing her escape. She needed Malfoy to be comfortable, not more hateful than he already was.

"Weren't you supposed to be punishing me or is that what this is? Did you think being in your presence would be the worst possible torture, because if so, kudos, you were right for once."

Her face had colored with feeling as she bated him nastily and as ever, Malfoy was never one to turn down a tempting bite.

"No, actually. Now that you mention it, I do have a punishment in mind. Tomorrow, and perhaps every day after that, you are coming to work with me. I'm too sloshed to deal with this shite right now. I'm going to bed and I suggest you do the same."

She was relieved the moment Malfoy left but a little disconcerted by Theo's pale countenance. What was he getting all ashen-faced for? She and Malfoy always fought. And as far as punishments go, this one was just…stupid. So she would have to spend extra time with the git. That sucked, but she wasn't exactly quaking in her boots over it.

"Erm…are you alright there, Knott? You look like you just swallowed some amortentia antidote."

"Hmm…" he mumbled distractedly. "Yes, sorry. I'm perfectly fine. You, on the other hand, are not going to be if…but Draco wouldn't actually take you there…no…he must just be too drunk and not thinking clearly."

Theo looked up with a weak smile. "Here I am just ranting away and getting you worried over nothing."

Her stomach had grown less easy the more Theo mumbled to himself. What would have someone raised by a wife murdering, hardened deatheater so worried?

"Where does Malfoy work?" Hermione asked with trepidation.

Theo sighed and considered her for a moment. "The mudblood whore house."


	4. Chapter 4

The morning came with mournings glory. Hermione was nervous about what the day might bring, but comforted by Knott's words from the night before. He knew his friend better than she did, so perhaps he was right. Maybe Malfoy would not pursue his threat and take her to the muggle-born den of sexual misery. Surely he had just been drunk and wanted to scare her. But, then again, this _was_ Malfoy and he _was_ an absolute prat. Not that prat was really a strong enough word for what he was. Murdering scumbug, foot-soldier to evil incarnate, whiny spoiled brat, egoistic moron, alcholic bastard of hell…these words might describe him a bit better. But really, for all his stupidity and all his puff and air, she did not really know him… so maybe, just maybe, she was wrong about him and Knott was right.

She heard voices outside the door and tried to concentrate on the muffled sounds. If only she had one of Fred and Georges extendable ears… there was a slight pang in her chest as she thought of the formerly jolly crew of Fred, George and Jordan. But she was not going to think about that. No, she was going to concentrate, examine and learn, so that she could escape this place and… And what? Feel shitty about dead people for the rest of eternity? That was not exactly comforting either. Sure, becoming a recluse and mourning the past for a lifetime was better than getting devoured by other slaves hell-bent on survival for the amusement of her "betters." Or was it? Was it really such a good thing that she survive? Should she just hang her head and follow her loved ones to the grave? Tempting…giving up was tempting. But not to bloody fucking Malfoy. That was just too undignified, too embarrassing, and too bloody awful a way to go. So survive him for what? A half-hearted and likely failed suicide? Death by other Voldemortarian traps? A long and miserable trip to the whorehouses where every two-bit death eater with a wad of cash could fill her orifices with their sperm? Yeah…the games might not be so bad. But could she kill her former friends? Innocent strangers? Luna? For fuck's sake she hoped that little run-in didn't take place on the killing fields.

"Who do you think you are Knott? My father? The little mudblood savior all dressed in white? Mr. Morality preacher, come to save the day?"

The notes coming off of malfoy's tongue were still slurred and blurred from his night of drinking. It was early in the morning and it did not sound like he had stopped guzzling till light. She heard a gulp and a crash. O.K., scratch that, he hadn't stopped drinking till right then.

"Merlin, Draco. Look at the mess. Look at yourself, your eyes are bloodshot, your tongue is dripping whiskey, and this idea _makes no sense_. Don't you remember why you decided to particpate in these little games? Don't you remember why you chose Granger?"

Why he chose me…that's interesting, she thought, as she filed the information away in her carefully organised brain.

"I hate that stupid bitch. I hate her, and I have no shits to give when it comes to how the wretched mudblood _feels_. I have always hated her, and I want her to suffer. I _want_ to see her cry. I _want_ to see her ruined. And most of all, I _want_ to see her realize just what kind of worth her race has to a wizard."

"Quite a passionate little display and all for my benefit," thought Hermione drily.

Knott responded, disgust dripping from the tones and dips of his deep and somber voice. "If you do this, Malfoy… If you do this, you will be truly lost to me. Is that worth it to you? Are you willing to stake our friendship on what you call a useless mudblood?"

"What the fuck, _Knott?_Are you really going to throw away all the years we have known each other for some cunt with a stick up her ass? The question isn't what is wrong with _me_. The question is what is wrong with _you_. Are you in love with that sack of bad-blood or something?"

"No," Theo hissed. "This is not about what feelings I may or may not have. This is about you going down a road I could never follow and would never want to. This is about you doing something that no one could approve of in good conscience. This is about you finally having accepted the full lot of your deatheater status. This isn't about me. This isn't about me at all."

And then Malfoy screamed. He screamed so loud and so incoherently that she could only make out a few of his words and sentences. "_I hate you!...Mudblood lover…whore and bastard and son of a whore…betrayal…fuck witted screwt…your betters…I am not the Dark Lord's pet dick sucker you panty wearing homo!"_

She imagined that on the other side of the door, Knott was busy shaking his head and sighing over his friends antics. "That is enough." Knott said calmly, with a sad tinge to his voice. "Do you want to wake up the whole house? Are you that desperate for attention and recognition? Go then. Do what you want. I'll have none of it or you. Legally, she is your property, but do not expect this to have no consequences. It will and you won't be able to bear them."

"Are you threatening me?" Malfoy asked, sounding shocked.

"No. I am warning you. _I_ won't have to do anything. _You_ will take care of your own punishment." Knott sounded weary and ragged and Hermione could not help pitying him, especially since he seemed to be defending her…not very well, but it was certainly worth a lot in this dark world.

"What the fuck does that mean? You think I'll feel guilty and bang my head against the wall in remorse? Stop talking riddles. You are wrong. I _am_ a deatheater and this_ is _my character. Perhaps you should watch what you say in front of me, _traiter_."

The threat lay in the air, pregnant with pain and indicative of a more ominous future for them. Hermione shivered. Friend betrays friend and brother, brother. Welcome to war kids. This should be an interesting ride…

Hermione heard footsteps walking away and she shuddered as Malfoy began banging on the door. "Wake up whore! It's time for work." He shouted these words, and likely it was as much for Knott's benefit as it was for hers.

She was afraid, very afraid, and for a moment she held her breath and sat in utter stillness, not daring to respond or think. To just be. To just be left alone and aloud to live a small and anonymous existence. She no longer wanted fame and glory and to defeat the big bad. She wanted to curl up in a small corner of the world, with a cup of hot chocolate, in a quiet neighborhood, full of insignifcant people of which she was one. She did not want to see her friend's die or to accomplish great things. In short, she only wished she were an ordinary muggle in an ordinary world and that she had never heard of Hogwarts or mythical beasts or Voldemort. She wished she had stayed in a world away from Harry Potter and away from Dumbledore. She had had enough of living amongst heroes and legends. She wanted to go home. She wished she had a home. Home…

Another sharp knock and a curse startled her out of her reverie. The door opened and she unthinkingly tried to cover herself, although she was perfectly decent.

"There's no need to cover yourself where we are going, mudblood. Put this on."

With that he tossed her what looked like a pile of straps and a pair of dragon skin boots that grazed her leg as they tumbled to the floor.

'Don't just stare at them, get dressed. I will not be leaving while you do so and I will not turn around. There is no point in faux-modesty. Let's see what has knott so bound up in your ties."

Hermione blushed furiously and refused to move. She just stared at Malfoy, looking him in the eyes, searching for some spark of pity or way out. She found none and his next words confirmed her assessment.

"I don't have time for your games. Knott already held me up. Imperio!"

He smiled a slow and dangerous smile. And but for a slight catch in his breath as he said the words, no sign of remorse or regret could be heard in his words as she struggled to fight them.

"Remove your clothes. Quickly. This is not a pleasure run."

Against her bidding, her hands betrayed her, as she slowly reached up and undid the ties of her dress. It quickly pooled around her feet, but the slow, narcotic affect of the spell kept her in a state of half-awareness and she could not remember why she wanted to fight this pleasure. It felt so good after so many worries and cares. It did not matter that her friend's were dead. She found herself, for the first time, to possess a perfect faith in their continued being. Of course death was not really death and it was mere human pride that kept her from that knowledge before. They were safe and warm. At _home._ They were sipping hot chocolate and Ron was mowing the grass in order to release that perfect smell of nature. Without further bidding, she began to unclasp her bra, which quickly joined her dress on the floor. She slipped her underwear down, revealing in full all that was naturally her's.

Malfoy did not remove his eyes, but surprisingly did not continue with his taunts. She had grown very small over the past few weeks, and looked slightly undernourished with her B cups and jutting hips. She, at least, did not look completely sickly yet. Not the picture of famine but certainly not the picture of health. Malfoy could not see what was so special that Theo would betray him, but, he supposed that each man had their own tastes. She was not unshaggable, but hardly worth a pursuit. He shrugged his shoulders and felt a slight pang of guilt. No, he thought viciously. Theo was not right. He would show him! Yes, he would show Theo just how merciless and like his father he could be.

"Now dress in the clothes I have provided. We are making a short stop by Theo's on the way, so make sure you look extra good. Matter of fact, why don't you shower first and add some makeup to that mess you call a face. Don't forget the sleakeazy."

Hermione obediently went about cleaning herself and dressing up for the day to come. Malfoy watched her the whole time, thinking to himself, that when she had that calm and dreamy expression, almost a Lovegood expression, she was almost pretty in an underfed, bat-shit crazy kind of way. Maybe Theo saw something he couldn't through her scowls and peevish ways…He shook his head. That was not a train of thought he was going to follow.

When Hermione finished, he spelled her hair dry and grabbed her by the elbow. Why did he touch and steer her, like a gentleman taking a pureblood to a ball? He dropped her arm and told her to walk in front of him.

Altogether, she made for the perfect hooker at the moment. Her outfit would throw Lady GaGa into a fit of lust and was reminiscent of some of her simpler black strapped ensembles. It was more like the outline of an outfit than a full set of clothes. Two straps wrapped their way over each shoulder and another crossed her breasts, revealing all but her nipples. Two straps went straight down her sides and dissected to wrap around her outer thighs and came back up to form around her most private of areas like a onesie. Two more straps went down her thighs and wrapped around them like the hem of shorts. The boots he had given her reached up and encased her legs just below the knee. The heels were high, about six inches. Yes, Theo would probably kill him when they passed by on their way out of the door. If death had been what he was after, he thought this might just be the best way to make it happen.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione dazedly walked throught he halls of Malfoy manner, blissfully unaware that she was half-naked and under thrall of the Malfoy heir. Her heart was light and for once missed no beats and kept an even and unspeeded pace. She was relaxed, happy, and also ignorant and in danger. She had no idea that she was a mere pawn in Malfoy's attempt to prove his evilness and was kept from any clues that might lead her to suspect that all was not right in her world. Shielded from her normal tempo and pattern of thought, she felt free and unchained. It was good to give up her power and her meaning, her desires and her goals. It was good that Malfoy was controlling her. A kindness. A peace. A little slice of bliss in an unalterably cold and hateful world. Happiness. This was the grail that every young witch and wizard wanted. This is all that had to be done. It was Nirvana and Heaven. It was death while the body still moved, but not quite really death. She felt but did not care. Her muscles felt like pools of silk and all pains found their visas to her body voided.

She floated languidly and smiled lazily at all passersby. She did not catch the jeers or muffled laughter. She did not notice the guffaws and awe. She did not see the raised eyebrows and shaking heads or the lustful glances or the awkward stops of breath and feet. She was the painless. She was the innocent. She was the baby wrapped up warm and suckling her mother's teet. She was the child being led through a maze, on the other side of which lay only comfort and protective arms to hold and steady her. There existed, for her, in these few moments utter joy and utter knowledge that all was as it was meant to be and that all was kind fate. She could now reap the rewards of being a god's lover or that which is given to saints upon death. Release, gratitude and overwhelming piety filled her body and lightly tickled her soul with soft and giving hands. She was Aphrodite at the moment of her victory. She was the blade of grass, left watered and undisturbed. She was like an old woman drinking from the fount of youth who had not tasted health in decades. She was everything and nothing. The morning and the night. She simply was.

"Stop," said Malfoy. And she stopped.

"Turn left and there will be a door in front of you. Open it when I finish explaining what you should do. This is Theo's room. I want you to go inside. If he is sitting or on his bed, I want you to straddle him. If he is standing embrace him. Kiss his lips. Do not act dazed. Do not tell him I sent you. Look at him with love. Consider that he is love and that he loves you. Treat him as that deserves. Tell him that you heard what he said in your defense and that you are grateful. Seduce him. Beg him to help you find a way out of this place and away from me."

Malfoy was not sure why he was doing this. It was beyond weird and beyond cruel, but for some reason he had to know how Theo would react. He had to know what was happening to his friend. He had to know exactly where he stood and exactly what he felt. He had to see his face when he realized the trick. He had to see the crash and burn and the furry of the spurn. He had to feel hate emanating off of him in waves, like flying knives aimed at his former friend's heart. He needed the complete and utter closure of an epic within his own life. He needed shut doors and lack of confusion. He needed… He needed to get this thing done.

"Begin now," he said.

Malfoy was like a possessed man, lacking all control and yet controlling. He was shivering with the breadown. He was excited about the fight. He was a worm trampled in his own feces and yet powerful like a god. He was the great pupeteer. And yet he was wracked with searing poverty of spirit. The world burned slow like coals before his eyes and the thunder storm was crashing in his ears as the lightning struck his eyes, blinding him. He was impatient and yet never wanted this intensity to end. He cradled the feeling like a long-lost love, as if it were a treasure more precious than all his gold in Gringotts.

He watched her turn the handle in a moment that felt like eternity stretched before him. He could stop her. He could walk her back to her room. He could have her dress herself and crawl back into her bed. He could obliviate her. He could forget this rage. But he couldn't forget this rage. It fuelled him and he could breathe again. This was life coursing through his veins and he would not give it up. This was everything. This was the moment. This was the truth revealed and his character made whole again. This was his choosing and the moment of his birth. This was his getting rid of wretched chains. This was his freedom. This was his ticket out of hell and into heaven. This was his escape and damn Theo if he tried to stop him!

His blood was pumping furiusly and his head felt clearer, more aimed and more inspired than it had since this damnable war had started. This is what he was conceived to be. This was the first act designed to rectify his failures. This was his ticket home. Theo could not take it! How dare he try to take it! Fuck Theo. He would see. They all would see. He was not the same paltry boy who had dreamed only of inheriting his riches. He was no longer the confused boy who's only ambition had been to make as many bastards as possible. This was Draco Malfoy. Deatheater. Evil. This was his fate and his hour. Yes. Fuck Theo. He shut the door behind her as she crept inside. He muttered a revealing charm and watched like his friends bedroom was a muggle TV screen.

Theo had not been able to sleep. He kept tossing and turning and could find no comfort in his (rather expensive) four poster. Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined what Hermione must be feeling. Malfoy had probably apparated them to the entrance of the house. She was likely walking with intrepid steps into the dark dungeons and into what for her would be a hellish dimesion full of demonized human beings. He had never been there, but he had heard the stories and he had seen Malfoy's white-stained face when he came back from his first day on the job.

He heard the door open and saw Hermione just as the door was quietly closing behind her. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and sat up. Was he dreaming? What was this? And fucking hell…what was she wearing?

"Wha…" He started to say, but was at a loss for words.

He stared confusedly, and watched as she walked closer to his bed. Yes, he thought, he must be dreaming after all. This strange vision was too much. This was definitely not the Granger he knew. Her body moved languidly. She was relaxed in her own, very naked looking, body. He couldn't help his response and his private stood at attention. She was much closer now and he could make up all the details of her body. She stopped briefly at the foot of his bed and he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He simply stared.

Hermione smiled at him and put her hands on the edge of the bed. She used it as leverage to pull herself up. First one foot, then the other. She began slowly crawling towards him. Over his legs and up his body until she was fully positioned in his lap. She ground her hips into him and a small groan escaped his lips. She smiled again, a dreamy, un-hermione-like smile.

He was about to stop her. He really was. But then she leaned down and pressed her body into his. It was almost too much to bear. Control was difficult. Then she leaned down and ever so feather light, she brushed her lips against his own. He could have cried out at the pressure pulsating in his lower half.

She raised herself back up and looked down at him. What she said made him shiver in excitement. "I heard you and Malfoy speaking. Thank you." Confusion and warnings were niggling at the back of his brain, but he wanted so much for this to be real that he tried to ignore them.

"For what?" He managed to choke out.

"For defending me. For being more of a man than the other's. For being compassionate in a time of crisis." She intoned this almost mechanically as if these were not her own words, but that she was repeating a sentence from a book.

She ground her hips into him again and for a moment he almost convinced himself that he'd imagined something was off. A lesser man might have been able to do it more fully. He gently removed her from his body and set her beside him.

She pouted slightly and looked at him confusedly. "But..don't you love me?"

His eyebrows shot almost to his hairline. There was definitely something seriously wrong here. This was not Granger. These were not her clothes, words or actions. This may be her body. But someone had carved out her spirit and sent him a mockery of the real girl.

"Why would you think something like that? Did Draco force you to come here?"

He silently prayed that this was not the case, but he knew it was.

"No. I want to be here. With you." She trailed a hand down his arm as she said this and he shivered in response.

"No." He sighed. "No, you don't. The real Hermione Granger would never have anything to do with me, much less would she want _this_ kind of thing with me. Plus, even if she did, she wouldn't come dressed this way or make such a spectacle. She's not the forward type. You, however, I assume are the creation of Draco. Goddamit!"

She cuddled up closer and nuzzled his neck while he eyed her wearily. "Don't be absurd. Of course I want you. Look at you!"

"Uh huh. I am. That's the problem." He said, a slight tinge of bitterness in his words.

"Well, if Draco was trying to piss me off he succeeded. If he was trying to be even more bastardly than usually, he did that too. I assume he is listening in, so I'll address him directly. But if you were trying to lose a friend, you have just proven that there is hope. Something this stupid and desperate comes from a damaged man, not an evil one. So guess what, pal. I am going to get up, punch you in the nose and then I am going to give you a big hug just to piss you off. Then I am going to fight you tooth and nail until I knock this stupid idea of evil destiny right out of your head. You see, you made a big mistake in trying to use me to further that end. I know you."

He hoped Draco would come rampaging in and throw a fit. He did not. When Theo went to the door and checked the other side for his spying friend, he was gone. He told Hermione to stay where she was until he got back. He did not find Draco that day or the next, but found himself stuck with a very horny and very imperiused Hermione Granger for two whole days and nights. It was the greatest test of endurance in Theo's life and he never felt as relived as when it was over.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione felt surrounded by weirdness. She was in a strange world, full of strange people and strange circumstance. She was beginning to long for the blood and guts she initially expected out of the venture. She had, instead, now accidently fallen in love, not once, but twice. The way things were going, she would have Harriet Smith, from Emma, beaten in the absurd love interest category. She needed to learn how to be careful of love spells and imperiuses or her minute amount of mental and physical freedom would quickly be put on the endangered idea list. She did not like this. She did not like this, at all.

She was currently sitting in her room, ignoring the grassy scents luring her back towards the wall, shining bright with red blotched cheeks at her latest escapade. She would never be able to look at Knott again. Oh Merlin! Would her frightfully embarrassing behavior ever end or would she simply dissolve into absurdity and let her mind take a very long vacation during her trip to insanity land? Escape plans. One must be set. Malfoy was back and had removed her from her imperius. He was ardently ignoring her and a houseelf had brought every meal to her room for two days now. Better, to be sure, than looking at his sickly skin, dark circles and watching his schisms of character, but still. It was boring, terrifying and gave her the opportunity to stew in her embarrassment. No. She did not like this at all. All of this waiting and watching and being controlled and worrying about the dead and the present danger was almost too much for her. It was as if all the marrow of her bones were being sucked out and she was left frail and unnable to move.

But, she had to get moving. And that was precisely what she planned to do as soon as Malfoy came back and unlocked the damn door. She was not allowed windows, which had been spelled away and the door was spelled tight. However, there was a very pretty lamp that she was sure would look much prettier shattered over Malfoy's blonde locks. She despised waiting and this entire thing was a constant wait with the promise of dark clouds to come and she just wanted to get it all over with.

She thought she must look terrible. She could see the knots and grease of her hair, out of the corner of her eye, laying limp on her cheeks. Her fingernails looked dirty, chipped, and were those flecks of blood under her nails from digging into her palm? Yep. Seemed to be the case, she thought as she analyzed the marks she had inflicted upon herself in her refusal to come to conclusions, make a plan and her inability to deal. Pathetic. The dress Malfoy had given her on her first day was looking dingy and she was shocked at the lack of bugs crawling all over her body. That would have perfected the scene of Malfoy's creation. She sneered, half at the thought of her state and half at the thought of Malfoy's schizoid tendencies and abusive nature.

There was a knock on the door and her heart quickened pace as her body tensed for action. She longed to wrapp her fingers around the lamp, and so she did. She picked it up quietly, gently, even almost tenderly and with affection as she hoped it would further damage Malfoy's already broken brain. She stood quickly and made her way over to the door. The knob was already turning and she needed to be positioned right to completely surprise him.

The door was opening and she could hardly breathe. Blonde hairs waved before her eyes as it slowly creaked open and she raised her arms to aim at the top of them. Large blue eyes widened in surprise and a small bow mouth began to form into an O. Hermione dropped the lamp, but not on her adversary. It crashed loudly into the carpet and glass mingled with the threads of fabric in a reflective collage.

"Luna. What are you doing here? I thought you were Malfoy."

For her part, Luna did not react at all to the scene and simply smiled in her calm and dreamy way. "I see that. May I come in?"

"Yes. Yes of course," Hermione rushed out, allowing Luna's passage. She shut the door behind the other girl and walked back to her bed to sit in what she hoped was a position that covered up many of the grossest parts of her current state. Luna, for her part, looked perfectly presentable. Well, as clean and presentable as she ever seemed.

"Have a seat. Or perhaps not. It's all rather…unwashed." Hermione fumbled with how to approach the situation. Should she go ahead and apologize for her actions or ignore them and hope Luna did the same? She figured it would only be right to say something on the topic.

"Luna…about the other day…"

Luna held up a hand and smiled cherrily. There was a slight glint in her eyes that bespoke a tinge of mockery. "Don't worry about that. I know you didn't do it. Besides, it was awefully funny, wasn't it?"

Hermione let out some of the tension she did not know she had been holding and attempted a small smile in return. It came out as a grimace. She really needed to learn facial control. Add that to the list of imperfections and stupidities, she thought, rather unkindly of herself.

Luna jumped on the bed beside her and pulled out her wand, scourgifying Hermione's hair and clothing.

Hermione stared at her open-mouthed as Luna grabbed her hands and gently healed the bloody half-crescents. She did the same to her bottom lip and the inside of the cheek Hermione had unknowingly been biting.

"There." Luna said. "That's much better. You are Hermione again."

"You have a wand! We…We are saved, Luna. This is great! How…?"

Luna looked sad for a second. "They gave it back to me. They know I won't leave. And in that they are right."

Hermione felt betrayed. Luna had the means of their escape and she was refusing to aid her? Why? Why would Luna do such a thing? Did she like it here? Were they treating her so well she did not want to leave? Did she provide info? Become a deatheater? What?

"It isn't what you are thinking, Hermione. It rarely is. I was friendly and kind to them. I am a pureblood. It was easy for me to convince them of my inherent worth. I knew that when I chose to come here. That's why I saved Lisa. She would have been ruined. I won't be. And neither will you. You don't know it yet, but you don't need me."

"Yes, I do! How can I escape without a wand? I am ruined. There is nothing I can do and no one worth turning to! Tell me. If you know so much, tell me how to escape without your wand."

Luna smiled sadly and shook her head. "You would ruin it if you knew your way out. You would not accept it. Know that this desperation is in vain and that trying to escape will only hurt you in the mean time. Wait, listen. You will understand in the end."

"Merlin! What does that even mean? You speak in such general terms, you may as well not speak at all!" Hermione put her hand to her mouth.

"I'm sorry, Luna. I didn't mean that. I just… I don't know what to do or how to move or how you can talk of an out but not let me know what you mean!"

"In one regard we have always been the same, although it is expressed very differently. We are both survivors of a sort. You are going to be fine, but first you must deal with what is before and behind you."

Hermione huffed. This was pointless. She should steal Luna's wand and make a run for it. If the girl did not want to help her, let Merlin save her from the consequences."

As if reading her mind, Luna burried the wand deep in the pockets of the dress robe she had been provided. The dreamy smile was still plastered to her face, but an edge could be detected in the corners of her eyes.

"Just believe in something for once, Hermione. More specifically, believe that I know what I am talking about. I don't mean you harm."

"Perhaps you do not mean harm, but that does not mean you won't cause it by your actions or lack thereof."

"It is possible for situations to change, of course, but as of now things are looking positive for you and you just don't see it. If the winds shift, I will shift with them and I will do everything in my power to save you."

Hermione glared at her, but nodded her head. This was the best she would get out of this conversation so she changed the topic.

"But Luna," Hermione said in the softest tone she had used since being here,"How are you really faring? Is it really that good for you here?"

Luna paused for a second and answered, "My circumstance is the ideal form of slavery."

Hermione and Luna chatted for a good while before an unexpected interruption came in the form of one drunken Draco Malfoy. Hermione wondered if he was ever not drunk.

He stepped in the glass and let out a very unbecoming screech of surprise.

"What the fuck, Granger? Trying to do me in by annoying me to death? It would have been better if you had broken it over my head and not simply scratched my feet. Get out Lovegood. You are not wanted."

Hermione sighed. Time for another row of crazy versus utterly insane. Good times. No, really, a novel could be written on the stupendous stupidity that was Malfoy's mind and behavior. Not that any rational being could understand it well enough to accurately depict the inner workings, but still…

He tossed her a very expensive looking bottle of wine. "Drink up. I assume you are going to need it. Merlin knows I do. It will keep your spirits in a mocking rather than feeling mood. Feel later. I don't want to see you feel. No. I don't care. Merlin dammit it all. I don't care. Don't drink. But I think you are going to need it."

"Is that your strange way of saying that something I do is actually related to my own choice?" Hermione asked, not really looking for an answer.

"Buggering fuck, twine hair. I don't know. Sure. Yeah. This is all a matter of your choices or perhaps nobody has any and it's all hubris and falsity. I don't know. Don't ask questions. I don't care what you do, how you feel, who you are or what you want. Drink, don't drink. What's it to me? Absolutely nothing. Nothing but another few galleons wasted from my father's account. On that note I do strongly encourage you to drink the whole bloody thing and ask for more with a side of caviar. In fact, you now have two elves to serve you and every time they call for you they will be required to bring more caviar than you could possibly eat."

"I don't like caviar." Hermione said, confused by his conversation.

"Didn't you hear me, mudblood. I don't care what you like. Don't tell me. This is not about you. Nothing is about you. It never has been or will be and you have no choice. You will only eat cavair from now on and the most expensive kind."

"Err…OK…"

Malfoy looked up at the ceiling and began talking as if someone on the other side of that plaster could hear him. "It's stupid. I can't deal with a stupid creature. It understands nothing. Yes. That is what it is, an it." He looked back at her. "Hey it, are you finished imbibing my resources? I can't be late. There is work. You will help me at work. Theo can bugger himself. This time I won't tell him and you won't tell him either. In fact I command it." He gave her a death glare and spoke imperiously his commands. "Yes. You will eat nothing but caviar and you will never talk to Theo unless he directly confronts you and you will always lie about what I am doing. I do not need you blabbing my personal matters. You have no right to it! Or to anything else for that matter. Understood?"  
"Not really, but sure Malfoy, master of petty commands. I won't say anything and I promise to drain as many of your resources as possible.

He glared at her for good measure and said tightly, "Fine, I wouldn't expect a mudblood to understand the workings of my genius. As long as you obey, that is the best that can be hoped for. Now stand!"

She stood. "Now, grab my arm. We are going by floo."

He waved his wand arm in front of the wall across from the foot of the bed. A huge and gaudy fireplace appeared, blackened with old soot and coupled with small containers of floo powder on top. "I must get Miffy to clean this place. It is disgusting, even if one cannot see it," he huffed.

As they stepped into the floo network, Hermione looked over her shoulder at the unopened bottle of wine, wondering if maybe she should have taken a card out of Malfoy's alcoholic deck. Perhaps it was better that she should have some relief upon her return. A private night of drunken relaxation might be good for her frazzled nerves and muscles.

Malfoy threw powder into the floo and ignited it. A bit backwards from standard procedure, but it worked nonetheless. Sure, a few extra ashes spewed across the floor, but what was that to a man with an army of houseelves at his disposal? Nothing, because he was an inconsiderate douchebag. "Red light district. Number 12."

He began tugging on her shoulder and quickly enough they were spinning and and their bodies were being pulled this direction and that as various destinations tried to grab hold of them. And then suddenly it stopped. They had arrived and Hermione was filled with trepidation.

The streets were dirty and littered with old condoms and empty love potions. Strewn here and there one could see half drunk liquor bottles and bits of dropped silver sickles. The smell of the streets was atrocious and in the windows stood many women and men, displayed like mannequins in sexual positions. She began ticking them off. That one goes for doggy, that one lays like death, waiting like a missionary to be defiled, that one looks a bit more lively with her leg held high above her head, resting gracefully on a pole, in the corner theres an older bint sat with her legs spread, her wrinkled old lips on full display…

"Pretty sight, isn't it mudblood? Bet your wet between the legs for your future working girl opportunities. Maybe I should hire you out. I probably should if you are a virgin, a better sum for that. Are you a virgin? Maybe I have asked, I forget things. I forget too many things, but I can't seem to forget the ones I want to, only the important little details that make a full life…" Malfoy was rambling conversationally. He seemed somehow more comfortable here. It was as if the familiar scene created the same bravado one might find in someone visiting home as an adult. You see the child, or in Malfoy's case, the adult.

"We are up here, on the right. Nasty place, but there's good money in it if you have the mind. Do you have the mind, Granger? Can you withstand it? Don't answer now. I'll ask you again after our trip. Anyone could take what we have seen thus far, typical whore stuff. No different, really than any other red light district. No magic in these petty displays. Just wait. Just you wait. Yes, wait and see and wish you had someone kind enough to obliviate… but I say too much, ignore me!" Malfoy continued his spirited ramble. Despite the words, his tone was cheery, inviting. He was much like a circus leader, pulling the audience in to be amazed but knowing the depth of depravity which the show costs.

"Here we are." He knocked on a heavy looking wooden door. It had bars on top from which a seedy eyed consumptive peered out. His teeth were rotting in his head and the smell carried by his breath was pungent and diseased.

He grinned a nearly toothless grin as he looked at Hermione lecherously. "New one, Master Malfoy? Good looking too. She'll make the Dark Lord a pretty penny."

"No, Ogglesworth. This one's not for sale yet. She is my personal and I expect no one to touch her. I am merely showing her what will happen if she does not do as I tell her." He glanced down at her and looked her in the eyes. "Always," he said with emphasis, implying that the slightest infraction could land her a highlight spot on the streets of rapist delight. She shivered, unsure as to whether he meant it or was showing off for the cretin he worked with.

"It's a shame Master. I would have liked to give her a go before we put her out…but there are plenty of other pretty things to waste time with."

"Indeed," said Malfoy, rather coldly. "I have work to do, so I must leave this girl in your hands. I trust that no harm will come to her?"

"Of course not, Master Malfoy. Not if you say otherwise. I wouldn't dream of it, sir!" he responded in a painfully subjective manner.

"I want you to give her the full tour. And I mean the full tour, special rooms and all. I want her to know exactly where her future might lie. I cannot afford a conniving servant. She must be broken, but not touched." Malfoy commanded of his inferior officer.

"Of course, sir! Like I said, I wouldn't dream, sir! Everything as you please, sir!" was Ogglesworth's humble and unbecoming reply. "Shall I begin, sir? It's aweful chilly out. Wouldn't want you to catch cold just standing there."

"Open the door, then. I haven't got all day." Malfoy spoke irritably.

Ogglesworth twisted the lock and mumbled many "Of course, sirs!" and "As you like, sirs!" as Malfoy walked down a separate hallway.

Turning back toward her, Ogglesworth let a lecherous grin spread across his face. "Yer in fer a treat m'dear."


	7. Changes

A note to readers:

I am heavily editing this story and thought I ought to send out a message to followers of it. The basic outline remains the same, but much has changed, including the title and chapter names. It is much darker and many events have been added. I am going to leave this message up for a week or so and then I am deleting the posted chapters. The new title is "Altered States," and I am going to make an effort with all of the characters. Rather than the story being primarily from Hermione's view, I would like to have chapters from the various players in the story. I also want to build up how some of the instances have come about a bit more and spread out the humorous scenes to really bring out the desperation of Hermione's situation, as well as the devastation caused to everyone (except maybe Bellatrix, who likes it just fine) by Voldemort's rule. I am sorry if this disappoints anyone, but I hope you will bear with me and enjoy the outcome of the edits.


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